


ROOM ENOUGH TO GROW

by Anonymous



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pokemon, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 19:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17534459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Zitao finds trouble in a forest inhabited by scary ghost-type pokemon, and then finds a trainer who helps him find himself.





	ROOM ENOUGH TO GROW

**Author's Note:**

> to give me more freedom, i did not set this story in a region of the pokemon world. while regions do exist, please consider this one an in-between or in its own separate region. it will be edited at a later date. thanks and enjoy!

When Miltank has been milked, and Furfrou has been brushed, and all of the pokemon at the daycare have been fed and exercised and been given all of the love and affection that he can provide, Zitao finally, _finally_ makes his way to the building that serves as their office and their shared house to ask Kris if it's okay for him to take the rest of the morning off. He doesn't specify what he needs the time for, but the pokeballs strapped onto the belt at his waist are probably damning, even if he's never talked about it.

If Kris notices, he doesn't say anything. He's at the desk filling out paperwork, either making notes of new moves a pokemon in their care has learned or filing a report about a new egg found recently. Zitao would rather take care of a hundred Stunkys than do all of the paperwork that Kris does. At least he has his Togepi to keep him company when he has to stay cooped up in the office.

Zitao still wonders to this day why Togepi likes Kris so much. He's not sure how a baby pokemon could be so enamored with the severe RBF look. The last time Zitao saw Kris look genuinely _pleased_ was when he found out that the champion of Sinnoh, who he absolutely despised for some reason, was beaten by a challenger that Zitao remembers the name of—"Chen"—but nothing else. But Togepi trills and waves its arms happily from its spot on top of the desk, as fond as always, while Kris looks up to open his mouth.

Luhan, the new daycare aide, stumbles down the stairs from their shared loft. His hair sticks out in a formation that reminds Zitao of a messy nest of a Chatot. "Aw, crap, sorry guys, I woke up late. I'll go start breakfast for the kids."

"Already fed," Zitao says.

"Oh," Luhan says. "Uh. I'll clean out the stable, then, I guess—"

"Did that, too," Zitao says.

Luhan's face falls. "Um . . . the pups probably need to be exercised?" he tries.

"It's done," Zitao says.

Luhan narrows his eyes. "I know I've only worked here for like, two months, but you're making me look real bad here."

"It's fine," Kris says, and Togepi coos happily as Kris's hand comes to stroke its cheek. "You didn't wake up late. Zitao is just too nervous to ask to leave for a few hours if he knows there are other things to be done. Am I right?"

Zitao fiddles with the elastic band of his fingerless gloves. "If you needed me and I'm not here—"

"Then Luhan and I can handle it," Kris says decisively. "I hired Luhan to help out and lighten our own workload. We've needed a third person for months. It took me too long to get one."

It's not that Zitao doesn't trust Luhan. Actually, he likes Luhan quite a lot, partly because he's hard-working and quick-witted, but also because he's sassy enough to make Kris's face twitch the same way it does when he bites into a particularly sour Iapapa berry. (The expression might also have less to do with Luhan's attitude and more to do with the way Kris's eyes fall to Luhan's ass whenever he turns around and bends down. Zitao doesn't want to think about that now, or ever.)

But the reason Zitao wants to leave the daycare premises is selfish, and he feels obligated to help out as much as possible before he does something for himself. He doesn't know how to articulate his concerns without admitting what he's been doing, so he just swallows around the lump in his throat and nods.

"Then get out of here. Just be back by the time we need to round up the kids from the pasture," Kris says.

"Wait," Luhan says. "Did you milk Miltank? It hates me. I don't want my food stomped on again if I have to go near its udders."

Zitao smiles. "You're all good there, I milked it this morning." Miltank is _temperamental,_ even if Luhan insists that _Temperamental means moody, it just consistently hates everyone here that isn't you._

"That's a relief. I can't understand why it only likes you," Kris says, turning back to his paperwork.

Luhan makes a face as Togepi toddles over to the edge of the desk. "You really shouldn't be talking."

Kris stares blankly at Luhan even as he, without looking, picks up Togepi and turns it around so it's waddling the other way. " _I'm_ charming," he says. Luhan outright laughs at him. Kris makes the Iapapa face again. Zitao lets out a big breath and tells himself that everything at the daycare will be okay if he leaves for a few hours. It's not like it's going to burn down.

Probably.

But he can't think like that if he wants to be relaxed enough to leave, so he bids farewell to his coworkers, grabs his bag from the loft, and heads out.

There's a good place less than a kilometer away. Zitao had discovered it a few months ago, before they hired Luhan. He's been too busy to come here more than a handful of times, but with Luhan around, things have gotten more relaxed. Zitao loves his job, but there other things he wants to do, too.

When he's close, he veers off the path. There are two hills he has to climb before the land spills out into a little meadow. There are a few Cutieflies and Ribombees flitting back and forth from flower to flower. A family of Zigzagoons and Linoones perk up when Zitao appears around the curve of the hill, but lose interest as an Aipom chortles teasingly at them from a nearby tree. A little stream, big enough that Zitao can see the silvery flashes of Barboaches moving under the water, cuts through the clearing, winding to and fro before disappearing behind another hill.

Under a blue sky and with warm wind coaxing the long grass into movement, this place would be perfect if not for the fact that it borders the creepiest place in the vicinity: Morass Forest. Its borders begin suddenly at the edge of the meadow, like a tangible line had been drawn once upon a time; the light green and soft pastels of the meadow are aburptly ended by a wall of trees, their gnarled trunks and crooked branches seeming to block out all light. A malefic aura creeps and curls from the spaces between the trees.

Zitao never goes near it, because that's stupid and he values his safety. There are probably a million ghost and bug type pokemon in there. The thought makes him shudder. He doesn't care if it'd be a good challenge for his pokemon. There are other ways of making them stronger.

One by one, Zitao casts out his pokeballs, letting his pokemon free. Swablu, Popplio, Emolga, Stufful, Petilil; they all excitedly chatter and cheer at being brought back to the meadow.

His pokemon _love_ training just as much as Zitao does. All of them had been hatched at the daycare, and when their trainers hadn't had time or space to bring them on their journeys, Zitao himself had adopted and raised them, and eventually he had his own little party formed.

They don't get to leave the daycare much, so coming out here with them is special. Zitao prepares himself for a long day of training, of patiently perfecting his pokemon's moves, and dreams of an unattainable future where he doesn't have the daycare to manage, where he can set off on his own pokemon adventure, too.

+++

There's something wrong. Swablu titters nervously above where Zitao trains with Petilil and Stufful, the former working on the learning of Stun Spore while Stufful tumbles around dodging it, Zitao murmuring suggestions while offering Stufful Cheri Berries every time the move hits—which, admittedly, isn't often. Popplio lifts its head curiously from the stream where it has been chasing Barboaches for the last half hour. The sun has dragged itself to the other side of the sky now, the shadows starting to stretch as the afternoon wanes. It will be time to leave soon.

Swablu flaps anxiously until Zitao holds out his arm for it to settle on. It perches, pecks lightly at Zitao's shoulder before gazing at him as though it expects him to understand what it's trying to say. "What is it?" Zitao asks, frowning at his inability to understand what has Swablu so bothered. Distressed, Swablu leaves Zitao's arm, circling around him a few times before swooping down to the holster at Zitao's hips. It pecks a pokeball free. At first, Zitao thinks that it's Swablu's way of telling Zitao that it wants to go back in its pokeball. Maybe it's tired or something.

Then Zitao realizes that it's not Swablu's pokeball that it has lodged free, but rather Emolga's. The realization is followed by another: He doesn't remember the last time he saw Emolga.

Zitao pivots his head to look around the clearing. "Emolga?" he shouts. There's no excited chattering or affectionate cooing, so Zitao shouts louder. "Emolga?!"

Popplio slides over, cowering by Petilil and Stufful, who both shrink closer to the ground in their nervousness and confusion. Swablu flaps in front of Zitao's face, trying to gain his attention again, and when it does, it flies a short distance towards Morass Forest before gliding back.

Zitao understands. Zitao doesn't _want_ to understand. Emolga has always been his most adventurous pokemon, but to journey into a forest that scary? _Alone?_ Emolga is going to be _gobbled right up_ by some never-before-seen pokemon unless Zitao saves it.

"Are you sure Emolga went in there?" he asks Swablu, even though he already knows the answer. Swablu lets out a noise less like an angelic tweet and more like the harsh caw of a Murkrow, as though dismayed that Zitao is wasting time doubting it. Chastised and beginning to fill with terror, Zitao recalls all of his pokemon back to their pokeballs. Emolga's pokeball, cupped in his sweaty palm, remains terrifyingly empty.

He faces the wall of trees. They're as foreboding as ever, eerie and unnatural. But no matter how much he doesn't want to go in there, he knows he has to go after Emolga. He considers sending Kris a message with his Xtranceiver, but every second he wastes is one that could be used to guide Emolga farther away from him. He's wasted enough time as it is. He takes off into the forest. The descent into darkness is abrupt, as though he has crossed the threshold into a dank, unlit cavern. "Why can't you just _behave_ for once," Zitao murmurs under his breath, blinking away the sting in his eyes.

Although the trees aren't close together, their tortile branches reach out to brush against him as he runs, like clawed hands grasping to hold him back. He can't, he _can't,_ be held back. Emolga is in here somewhere. He calls out for the pokemon every few seconds, each cry getting louder and more desperate. Even if it brings him unwanted attention, he needs to find Emolga.

He doesn't know how long he searches, or even where he is. As time passes and his energy leaves him, his adrenaline-fueled sprint dies down to a panicked stumbling over twisted roots and inconveniently placed rocks. He stills shouts for Emolga often, but now he doesn't have a bearing on his direction. It's a gamble; each step could be taking him either closer or farther away from his pokemon, and there's no way to tell which one it is without any sign—

A sound. He can't tell what it is at first, but it's not crushed leaves under his feet or branches snapping back into place after they fail to grab him. It comes again, a horrid rattling that sets dread into Zitao's bones, but when he freezes and listens harder, he hears underneath the awful sound one even worse: a frantic, terrified series of chirrups. This is a cry Zitao knows all too well.

Emolga, of course it's Emolga, and of course it's found trouble in the worst place possible to find trouble. As he runs, he just hopes that he gets there in time to get it back out of trouble, because Emolga is Zitao's pokemon, his partner, his _friend,_ and Zitao couldn't never call himself a pokemon trainer if he can't even protect his pokemon.

Against all of his instincts, he rockets towards the eerie sound. He knows it has to be a pokemon, but can't ever recall hearing a cry like that in his entire life, so he doesn't know what to expect when he stumbles upon the scene before him.

Emolga, safe alive safe breathing okay _safe,_ cowering in the cradle of a tree's hulking roots. Above it are two pokemon, handless and legless, a murky gray in color, and even if Zitao hasn't ever seen pokemon that look like this before, they're very clearly ghost type. They're evil, and dangerous, and rattling ominously as they loom over Emolga, coming closer and closer and closer.

Zitao doesn't even think, doesn't even stop. He screams, wordless but loud, to garner their attention. They both whip around, and Zitao gets his first good look at their faces: smiling wide, but instead of a mouth, a yellow crescent-shaped zipper, unopened but twitching with the force of their clacking cry. Their eyes are red and are probably filled with more malice than Zitao has ever seen in one living being.

It doesn't matter. All that matters is that they've been distracted. Zitao takes advantage of that momentary lapse in attention and barrels towards them, and then past them, hurriedly scooping Emolga up in his arms and running running running like he's never run before.

The pokemon rattle more, and the sound is different in pitch and speed, as though affected by anger or interest or excitement. Zitao doesn't have time to determine what emotion it is. All he knows to do is to run, to clutch Emolga tight in his arms and careen in any direction that isn't here. Dimly, he's aware that if he escapes this, he's going to be more lost than he's ever been in his life. It doesn't matter. As long as they're safe, they'll make it through. They will.

A dark shadow suddenly springs up before him, and as Zitao stumbles to a stop he has a split second to realize that it's _his own_ shadow, tailored right to his feet even as it elongates and rises from the ground, taller than him. The shadow spikes out, retracts back, and then twists until it's the scary zipper-mouthed pokemon in front of him. It clatters and springs towards him. As Zitao falls to the ground, he hears a flanging, musical whistle, and the pokemon in front of him whirls its head to the side to investigate. Then everything goes black.

+++

When Zitao rouses, it's to a tingling sensation all over his body, warm and refreshing. It reminds him of the time he accidentally got caught in a Masquerain's Sweet Scent, the way that it soothes and lulls, but instead of just smelling nice, it relaxes his whole body. He hadn't realized how sore he is until the feeling soothes it away, leaving his muscles loosened, his wounds healed.

There's a gentle shake on his shoulder. Oh, crap, did he sleep in? Usually that's Luhan's vice, but Zitao sleeping in late has been known to happen once or twice, usually following him pulling an all-nighter with a sick pokemon. Is the pokemon okay?

Wait. There is no sick pokemon, but there _is_ the shape of Emolga cradled in his arms. And the hand shaking him is too small to belong to Kris. Zitao focuses and hears words: "Hey, you gotta wake up. There are a million better places for naps than this one, kid."

"Not a kid," Zitao sighs as he opens his eyes. There are dozens of green specks ambulating around him, landing on him for a moment before drifting off again, and after a moment he realizes that they're hundreds and hundreds of _bugs._

He screams. Zitao leaps up and tightens his grip around Emolga, and it cries out at the sudden movement. Hovering in the air before him is a Vespiquen, its compound eyes staring at him without a trace of emotion even as its mandibles click in a way that reminds Zitao of Luhan when he tuts in irritation.

"What the hell?" Zitao screeches, stumbling back away from the bugs.

"Woah, hey, it's okay! Vespiquen, you did good, you can call them back." Vespiquen buzzes and crosses its arms in front of it. The small insects swirling around Zitao collectively fly back towards Vespiquen, disappearing into the bottom of its skirt-like hive. Still reeling, Zitao lets out a shuddering breath. "It wasn't trying to hurt you."

"It was putting bugs on me," Zitao defends, his voice squeakier than he intends. He clears his throat. "It was only natural for me to panic." His voice is less squeaky this time, but now it sounds petulant. Great.

"It was using Heal Order. You and your Emolga were pretty banged up when we found you. It seemed kinder to heal you before we woke you up."

_Emolga._ Zitao glances down to inspect his pokemon's injuries. It trills at him, soft and unsure, and Zitao strokes its chin with a finger, his relief prickling in his eyes. Safe. The frantic pounding of his heart begins to calm into something more normal.

"Woah, don't cry. It's gonna be okay."

Zitao squints up at the owner of the voice. It's a man, and he has to be around Zitao's age, maybe a little older, even if he's much smaller than Zitao. He's not smiling, but his mouth has a curl on either side, like the self-satisfied smirk of a sleepy Purrloin. "Who are you?"

The man does smile now, and the curls become more exaggerated. It's kind. Not a Purrloin smirk at all. "My name is Jongdae. Who are you?"

"Zitao." Zitao looks around as he absently rubs one of Emolga's ears between his index finger and thumb. The crippled trees around him, their webs of jagged branches, tells him he's still in Morass Forest, but everything seems darker now, the trees closer together. The last vestiges of sunlight struggle to squeeze in through the canopy. "Are you familiar with this area? I need to get back to the daycare."

"I'm not from around here," Jongdae says. He holds up a pokeball to put Vespiquen away as his expression turns thoughtful. "But I did pass the daycare on the way in. It's maybe a four day walk back?"

Zitao blanches. "Four days."

"Yes?" Jongdae holsters his pokeball at his small waist. Zitao knows he's taller than the average man, but Jongdae truly has a small stature.

"That's not possible." It can't be. Even if he had been knocked out for that long—and that's very unlikely—he hadn't been in the forest for more than an hour before encountering the pokemon attacking Emolga. How could he have gone from being a short distance from the edge of the forest to being a four days' walk in? "Before I had been knocked out, I hadn't even been in the forest for an hour."

"Knocked out," Jongdae repeats. "Why don't you tell me what happened and we'll try to figure out how you got so deep into the forest."

They sit on a bench-like log nearby and Zitao tells the story of how Emolga had run off. The pokemon in question coos a sheepish apology, but Zitao is too relieved that Emolga is safe to be angry. He explains how he had stumbled upon the two ghost pokemon, of how his shadow had gone strange, and then there was a whistling noise. "And then I woke up, and there were bugs on me, and it was disgusting." He says this last part with a hint of animosity.

Jongdae frowns. "I told you, I was just having Vespiquen help you. You really weren't in the best shape when I found you. There were a bunch of cuts and bruises on you, and you were lying quite literally in the middle of the path."

Zitao wants to apologize, but the memory of tiny bugs swarming him sends his stomach roiling. "Right," he settles on.

Jongdae lets it slide. "It sounds like you ran into a couple of Banettes. I can't think of any other pokemon that has a zipper for a mouth. They can be really mean, Zitao, I'm glad you and Emolga are safe." He says it so genuinely that Zitao feels his face flush. Jongdae doesn't notice, too busy digging out something from his pocket. He pulls out a pokedex from his bag, typing something into it before leaning into Zitao to share the screen with him.

Under a marquis text reading "BANETTE" is a picture of the same menacing pokemon Zitao had encountered. The pokedex plays a recording of Banette's cry, and now that he can focus on it, Zitao thinks it kind of sounds like Kris when he wakes up in the morning and hasn't figured out how his voice works yet. Emolga lets out a high-pitched squeak, and Zitao pets behind its ears to comfort it. "Yeah," Zitao says, mouth dry, "that's it."

"The whistling sound, though. Do you think that could be a pokemon?" Jongdae turns his earnest gaze to Zitao. This close, Zitao can see how long his eyelashes are.

That isn't something he should be noticing right now, given the circumstances. "Maybe?" Zitao mumbles, pulling back a few centimeters. He surveys the area around him. "I need to get back though. Um, do you have an Xtransceiver I can use? I need to tell my coworkers what happened. I don't have mine."

Jongdae has one of the newer models, the ones that clasp around your wrist. Zitao doesn't have enough money to spend on things like that; all of his money he earns from the daycare goes back towards new clippers or brushes or treats or toys. Jongdae slides it off and hands it to Zitao, who handles it gently, feeling anxious about holding something this expensive that doesn't belong to him. After figuring out how to use the call feature, he enters in Kris's number.

After a few rings, Kris's face comes into view, displayed on a blue-tinted hologram, and his deep voice answers, "This is the Route 4 Daycare Center, how can I . . . ?" His eyes narrow. "Zitao? Where are you? You were supposed to be back by now. Dinner already passed."

Well, that confirms that at least Zitao hasn't been unconscious for days or anything like that. He must have just been teleported, maybe by a pokemon, whether it was the Banettes or the owner of that mysterious whistling.

"About that." Zitao licks his lips. "I ended up going into Morass Forest," and here, Kris scoffs incredulously and mutters something that sounds like _You?_ , and Zitao chooses to ignore it, "and I had a run-in with some ghost pokemon. Something happened, I'm not really sure what, exactly, but I passed out, and when I woke up, I met a trainer who told me that I'm really, really deep into the forest. Like . . . four days away deep."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. The trainer . . . healed me." Zitao doesn't mention that the healing involved bugs and Zitao screaming in terror. Kris likes _exaggerating_ the severity of Zitao's responses to his fears. And if Kris finds out, so does Luhan, and while Kris teases, Luhan torments. Jongdae, hearing Zitao's cagey answer, snickers to himself. Zitao watches him hold out a hand to Emolga, who sniffs it.

"Four days," Kris repeats. "You're on your way back, though, right?"

"I'll start heading back right away," Zitao promises. He has no idea how to make it through Morass Forest, and he doesn't have any food or camping gear, but he'll figure it out. Probably. With luck.

Right.

"Luhan and I will manage for a few days," Kris says, oblivious to Zitao's inner doubts. "Be careful, okay?" The top of Togepi's face, just its head and eyes, pops into view as it trills in agreement.

"I will. Thanks, Kris."

They bid farewell and hang up. Zitao stares at the Xtransceiver a moment longer before handing it back to Jongdae. As he slips it back on his wrist, Jongdae asks, "Are you going to be okay making it back by yourself?"

Zitao stands up and brushes himself off while Emolga climbs up to his shoulder. "Probably. I mean, I have my pokemon with me." He doesn't mention that the only battling his pokemon have done are practice fights against each other, and that none of his pokemon are strong enough to evolve yet. "I don't have food or anything, but even a forest as creepy as this one has to have some berries or something in it. My Stufful is pretty good about finding food."

Jongdae assesses him for a few moments. His gaze sweeps Zitao up and down, and it makes Zitao's heart thump pathetically. He's weak to cute men. When Kris first hired Luhan, Zitao had been smitten for a whole five minutes before he realized what a terror he really is. But Jongdae seems devastatingly nice, even if he has a creepy bug pokemon.

Finally, Jongdae announces, "I'll go with you."

Zitao blinks and raises his eyebrows as the curl in Jongdae's mouth grows more prominent. "You really don't have to."

"I want to," Jongdae says. "The only reason I'm even here is to train my pokemon. I can still do that while I walk back to the daycare with you."

"Are you sure?"

When Jongdae smiles completely, his eyebrows slant up exaggeratedly, and Zitao knows with dawning horror that he already has a crush on this man. "Lead the way."

+++

They camp there for the night, just a stone's throw from the path. Jongdae shares dried food and a tent that is able to collapse into a square no larger than a notebook. He only has one sleeping bag, but he unzips it so that he and Zitao can share that, too, even if it makes Zitao so giddy that it takes him hours to fall asleep.

They leave first thing in the morning. Within the first few hours of their journey, Zitao discovers that Jongdae's Vespiquen is not his only scary pokemon. In fact, _all_ of his pokemon are terrifying. Zitao will never admit to the noise he makes when they run into a Drifblim and Jongdae calls out his Gengar.

After the battle in which Gengar defeats Driblim with a single Shadow Ball, Jongdae turns to give Zitao a questioning look. "So, are you . . . afraid of pokemon in general? Besides Emolga?"

"I love lots of pokemon, thank you," Zitao sniffs. He pops out a hip, the one his pokeballs are slung on, and immediately heats under the way Jongdae's eyes zero in on it. "Um. I mean. I just don't like scary ones."

"Just because they look scary doesn't mean they are," Jongdae insists, even as Gengar parts its maniacal grin with a long, wriggling tongue, as though giving Zitao a friendly wave. Or indicating it wants to eat him for dinner. He can't stop his full-bodied shudder. Jongdae pets Gengar's head, praises it for its success, and returns it to its pokeball, and Zitao sighs in relief.

Besides Vespiquen and Gengar, Jongdae's party consists of Primeape, who looks like it wants to (and probably could) beat Zitao into a liquid; Metagross, who probably eats small, cute pokemon like Emolga and Petilil as snacks; Weavile, who folds its arms and smirks condescendingly at Zitao whenever it finishes a battle; and Rufflet, who is, admittedly, not as scary so much as it is ugly, and who indiscriminately charges everything from the smallest of Pumpkaboos to the largest of Trevenants.

Jongdae is so cute, and kind, and warm, and sweet, and funny, and hot, and every other nice adjective Zitao can think of. Why does his team have to be so creepy?

Zitao doesn't make his pokemon fight, opting instead to hover behind Jongdae and watch him as he displays his mastery battling and his confidence in his pokemon. If Zitao swoons a little, Jongdae doesn't ever turn in time to see it. (He's pretty sure Weavile catches on, if the way its smirk widens whenever Zitao's jaw becomes slack is any indication. It's not like the pokemon is going to be able to rat him out any time soon, so Zitao tries not to be self-conscious.)

After Rufflet successfully beats a too-confident Phantump, Jongdae turns back to Zitao. "Do you want to give it a shot?"

It takes a few moments of feeling like an idiot before he realizes what Jongdae means. "What, battling?" At Jongdae's nod, he feels his shoulders shirk up. "Nah, that's probably not a good idea."

He kind of hopes Jongdae will drop it. But Jongdae tilts his head to the side and very earnestly asks, "Why?"

"Um. My pokemon aren't very strong." He hates admitting that. He _hates_ it. "Honestly, Emolga is kind of my strongest, and even it wouldn't last long unless it faced, like, a low-leveled pokemon with a type disadvantage."

Jongdae's brows furrow and he hums. As they begin walking, Jongdae says, "I've only met your Emolga, but it obviously adores you. If your bond is this strong, why wouldn't you fight beside it? I bet your teamwork would be unmatched."

Zitao takes in a deep breath and has to stop walking again. "They're good pokemon. It's not their fault they're weak. It's mine." He's never had to say it out loud, but hearing it makes it more real somehow.

"Yours?" Jongdae prompts. He's so earnest. Zitao would be judgmental of how smitten he is with this near-stranger, but Jongdae is wonderful enough that he feels his sudden and intense attraction is justified. 

"I haven't trained them enough. I work so much at the daycare that I don't prioritize their growth. I've let them down; they're weak because of _me,_ because I don't believe in them enough." Zitao laughs at himself, and it sounds watery and weak, but at least he's not crying. "Did you know I didn't even catch them myself? All of my pokemon are from eggs that were hatched at the daycare. A lot of trainers don't have room in their party for a baby pokemon, so they just leave them, and once they relinquish custody, I take the ones that I grow attached to. It's like they're not even really mine. Why would they want to fight for someone like me?"

"Zitao."

Jongdae is there in front of him, clutching firmly at his forearms, and even if he's smaller than Zitao, Jongdae demands all of his attention. Once he's sure Zitao is 100% focused on Jongdae, he continues, "You gave them a home when they didn't have one. And if they love you even half as much as Emolga does, then I have no doubts that you're a good trainer to them. You can make time for them, if you want. And if they're happy to be with you even without battling, then that's okay. Your worth as a trainer isn't dictated by how strong your pokemon are."

Overwhelmed by Jongdae's intensity, Zitao's petulance flares. "That's easy for you to say," he grumbles, but he can't bring himself to look Jongdae in the eye as he says it. "You're already a strong trainer."

Jongdae frowns. His grip on Zitao's forearms tighten for a moment, then loosen, and his fingers trail down Zitao's skin until they let go completely, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He doesn't know Jongdae well enough to pin down the emotions in Jongdae's gaze. Disappointment? Pity?

"I think," Jongdae says, words slowly and carefully chosen, "that you _do_ believe in your pokemon, which is why this is upsetting you so much. I think the one you don't believe in is yourself."

Zitao wants to snipe something back at him, something like _You don't even know me,_ but Jongdae says it gently enough that it sounds like concern, not judgement. Besides, as much as he's loathe to admit it, Jongdae is right. His pokemon are ready; Zitao is the one that isn't.

"The daycare is my life," Zitao finally says. "I can't just abandon it to go on a pokemon journey." And that's really where Zitao's lack of confidence comes from. He knows the daycare, knows his value there. Going on a pokemon adventure would mean abandoning something that depends on him in favor of the unknown. Zitao loves his job, he _does._ The feeling of stagnation isn't enough to convince him to leave.

Jongdae doesn't have a response to that beyond a small nod. They don't talk about it for the rest of the day, the only sounds in between loud battles the crunching of leaves under their feet and the scratching of branches above their heads. With Jongdae beside him, Morass Forest isn't as scary, even when they're not talking much. The lack of conversation between them is uncomfortable and daunting at first, but as the day drags on, it becomes more peaceful. Jongdae hums little tunes here and there.

When they set up camp for the night, Jongdae asks if he can meet all of Zitao's pokemon.

"Why?" Zitao asks. It comes out more defensive than he means it. What interest does Jongdae have in his pokemon?

Jongdae shrugs. "You've met all of mine."

That's as good of a reason as any, Zitao supposes. One by one, he summons his pokemon. They all greet him happily as they come out of their pokeballs and openly regard Jongdae with curiosity. Jongdae holds out his hands to them, letting them sniff and then petting them each in turn. Something about the gentle and attentive way Jongdae interacts with his pokemon melts his heart a little bit.

After they eat dinner, Jongdae casually remarks, "You only have cute pokemon."

Zitao can't stop himself from getting defensive. "I told you, I just don't like scary pokemon." And he really only gets attached to cute ones. Zitao can't help it; he just likes cute things. Jongdae included.

"I'm not saying you're choosing pokemon based on appearances. I'm just saying . . . you should maybe give other pokemon a chance." Without waiting for a reply, Jongdae stands up and stretches, and Zitao absolutely does not look at how his shirt rides up. "How would you feel about letting me train with your pokemon a bit?"

"Huh?" Zitao eloquently says.

Jongdae smiles. Zitao knows it's at his expense, but Jongdae's smile is so pretty that he can't really find it in him to be offended. "Yeah! I wanna see where you're at. And maybe give you some pointers. You don't need to leave your daycare to grow stronger with your pokemon."

They hadn't talked about their conversation earlier in the day until now. Jongdae makes it sound so easy, like maybe being a pokemon trainer and running the daycare aren't two mutually exclusive things. And maybe they aren't. Maybe Zitao can't go on an adventure like Jongdae is, but he can still grow alongside his pokemon, right? Zitao smiles widely and says, "Yeah, you're right."

Jongdae calls out Metagross. Zitao's pokemon instinctively shy away at its sheer size, but its soft, encouraging rumbles coax them forward. "I don't need your pokemon beating each other up when they're so close in experience," Jongdae explains as Swablu lands on Metagross's head. "They can attack Metagross without holding back, and Metagross won't be bothered by it."

Zitao's pokemon are eager to show off their moves, having never been able to battle in front of other pokemon before. Zitao is impressed by their fervor. It makes him feel eager too, to impress Jongdae himself. He might not be a strong trainer, but he loves his pokemon and knows their strengths and weaknesses. He gives commands and cheers on his pokemon until his throat is scratchy from using his voice too much.

Jongdae offers encouragements and advice here and there, but mostly he just looks on with a small smile. After Zitao as recalled his pokemon, he says, "They might not have a lot of experience, but they all love you and want to try their hardest for you, Zitao, because you try your hardest for them. Let them fight for you." The praise makes Zitao's ears burn, and he has to duck his head to hide his pleased smile.

At the end of the night, Jongdae gives Zitao a few TMs. "I don't need them anymore," Jongdae explains, refusing when Zitao tries to give them back. He doesn't go into town often, but he's seen how expensive TMs can go for at the PokeMart. "Your pokemon would make better use of them than mine would."

"Thank you," Zitao says earnestly. "Not just for this, but for training my pokemon and bringing me back and. Well. Everything. Thanks."

"It's my pleasure," Jongdae says with a smile so charming that it makes Zitao's knees weak.

+++

"So," Jongdae says, dragging out the "o." "It looks like we might have been this way before."

In all honesty, Zitao hasn't been paying close attention to where they've been walking for the past two days, confident in Jongdae's navigational abilities. He is, after all, the one who has been this way before. But the way Jongdae makes his announcement has Zitao swiveling his head around to gape. "You mean . . . we're lost?" His voice gets squeaky at the end. He has to clear his throat to get rid of the pitch.

"That's not _exactly_ what I said," Jongdae says, and Zitao has a feeling the trainer could probably sweet-talk his way out of jail with a smile as charming as his. "In fact, that's the opposite of what I'm saying! I'm saying we've been here before, which is the opposite of being lost, you know?"

"'Lost' not as in 'I don't know where we're at,' but as in 'We don't know how to get out of here.'" Ah, screw it. His voice is still squeaky and afraid. Out of all of the places to get lost, this is the worst. "How do you even know we've been here before for sure? Everything looks the same to me."

"You get good at remembering where you've been when every forest and cave in every region has to be set up like a maze. And I'm pretty sure we're on the same trail all morning as we were yesterday."

"All morning?" Zitao asks. "Jongdae, it's _noon._ We've been lost since this morning and _you didn't tell me?_ "

Jongdae looks sheepish. "I wasn't sure, and I didn't want to scare you." And that . . . does make him less mad.

They veer off the path to sit on a couple of boulders that do, admittedly, look familiar. "We'll figure this out, we just have to be calm," Jongdae says confidently. Zitao wonders whether he's actually that confident, or if he's putting on a brave face for Zitao's sake. Jongdae unclips a pokeball from his belt and casts out Rufflet. "Rufflet," he says, "we're a bit confused as to where we're at right now. Do you remember where the entrance to the forest is? The place we came through a week ago?" Rufflet nods an affirmative. "We shouldn't be too far from it now. Will you go check to see that we're on the right path? Don't fly for too long, though. If it the path looks the same for too long, turn around and fly back. We'll stay here for right now."

Rufflet caws once and then takes off.

Zitao can't help but be captivated by the way Jongdae effortlessly takes control of the situation. "You act like this isn't the first time you've been stuck in a sticky situation like this one."

"It's not," Jongdae says. He starts tracing lines in the dirt using the tip of his finger. "When you've been adventuring as long as I have, there's bound to be problems at some point. It's inevitable. It's scary at first, but you learn to roll with the punches. As long as your pokemon are with you, you'll be okay." After a few lines, a pokemon face starts to appear.

"What pokemon is that?" Zitao asks, moving off the rock to squat by Jongdae on the ground.

In the corner of Zitao's eye, Jongdae's smile is small and cute and maybe a little mischievous. "It's Pancham," he says, and, yeah, Zitao sees it, now. "You remind me of one."

The comment startles Zitao into a laugh. "Funny enough, you're not the first person to say that. My nickname in school used to be 'Panchao.'" He pronounces the "ch" sound softer than it normally would be, forming it in the top of his mouth rather than the front, so that it more closely resembles the crisp "T" in Zitao's name.

"Panchao," Jongdae repeats, laughing. "That's cute." His eyes sparkle as they meet Zitao's. Zitao blushes as though Jongdae is calling _him_ cute rather than the nickname.

The attention makes him shy, and he begins his own dirt sketch as an excuse to escape Jongdae's sincere gaze. "You remind me . . ." Zitao says, truncating his sentence with another set of lines. ". . . of . . ." A mouth the shape of a sideways number three. ". . . a Purrloin."

"Ah," Jongdae laughs, "the mouth." He smiles with a closed mouth, making the curls more prominent, and Zitao giggles. He's tempted to trace the line with his fingertip.

They continue bantering and playing around like that for a while. Zitao suspects Jongdae is just trying to keep him from panicking, but he appreciates it.

It's mid-afternoon when Rufflet comes back, excitedly cawing at them as it lands on Jongdae's proffered arm. "You found it?" Jongdae asks, Rufflet's excitement mirrored in his own voice. Rufflet trills. "Awesome. Great job, Rufflet!" Jongdae stands up and holds out a hand for Zitao to grab onto, and Zitao really shouldn't focus on how soft and dry and warm Jongdae's hand is. "Lead the way!"

Their energy renewed by the promising lead, they follow Rufflet with a spring in their step. And follow. And follow. And follow until there's not a spring in their step, and they come across a pair of boulders that look awfully familiar. Rufflet makes a sad sound.

"Wow," Zitao says, and that awful whine is back in his voice again. He's too anxious to be self-conscious about it this time. "Can you believe someone gets paid to make these paths?"

"Let's stop for the night and think this through over dinner," Jongdae suggests. "There has to be a reason that Rufflet found the exit when we're repeating the same path." There isn't anything else to do but agree. They set up their tent just behind the boulders, and Jongdae makes dinner while Zitao gazes forlornly at the campfire. He should probably call Kris again, let him know what's going on.

After a spell of pensive silence, Jongdae says, "So here's what I'm thinking. Like all creepy forests, Morass forest has a lot of ghost pokemon." He takes a bite of his noodles, chewing thoughtfully. "And ghost pokemon," he continues, "have been known to play tricks on unsuspecting humans."

"Oh," says Zitao. "You think a pokemon is playing a trick on us?"

"That's what I think," Jongdae confirms. "It would make sense. Rufflet got to the exit and back by itself, but when we all traveled together, we ended up repeating the stretch of path again. It sounds like something a ghost pokemon would do."

Anxiousness flutters through Zitao's chest, sinking into his stomach. What if they never escape? "So what do we do?"

"We look for the pokemon," Jongdae says decisively. "If we find the pokemon and defeat it, it won't be able to trap us here any longer."

Zitao takes a deep breath. It sounds a lot simpler when Jongdae words it like that, like a simple problem with a simple solution. Are all pokemon trainers like this? "Okay," he says. Another breath, and then he says, softer, "Okay."

Jongdae reaches out and squeezes Zitao's shoulder. "Hey, we'll be okay. This isn't the worst thing that's happened to me. We'll figure it out."

And even though Zitao is scared and unsure, he chooses to believe Jongdae.

+++

But there's a stark difference between Jongdae's confident words and the reality of the situation, which is that even after searching high and low in the area the next day, they can't find any sign of any pokemon that could be trapping them here.

As the day drags on and it gets harder for the light to squeeze through the canopy, Zitao realizes that he is going to die in here. He's going to wander around and be eaten by those pokemon you only hear about in movies, like a _Spiritomb_ or something like that.

"Zitao, it'll be okay, just breathe," Jongdae says. "You're thinking so loudly that I can hear your internal screaming."

"That doesn't even make sense," Zitao whines.

"And yet, you're internally screaming, aren't you?"

He's not wrong. Zitao huffs and forces himself to at least pretend that he's calm. "Okay," he bites out, "what's our plan, then?"

Jongdae looks up at the pieces of sky that can be seen through the spiderwebs of branches above them. "Well, it's too late to do anything now," he says. "We won't be able to get anything done in the dark. We'll find a place to crash for the night and tackle the problem tomorrow, once we're well-rested."

Zitao agrees to the plan. There's a cave that they passed a little while ago in their search, not very deep, but there are mushrooms there that Jongdae claims are edible. They harvest some for dinner, saving some for themselves and feeding the rest to their pokemon. Right outside of the cave, where there's enough room for Jongdae to summon Metagross, Jongdae continues to help Zitao train his pokemon, giving him hints on how to increase their experience without wearing them out so quickly and how to learn new moves faster. He helps Zitao sort through the TMs that Jongdae had given him, showing him which ones to use on his pokemon and which ones to save for later use. 

"So this is Volt Switch," Jongdae is explaining, holding the yellow machine in his hand. "Emolga will learn it on its own eventually, but if you have the TM and no other electric type pokemon, I'd recommend teaching it now. It's stronger than the other moves it knows now, and—"

Whatever Jongdae is about to say is cut off by Metagross's reverberating hum of alarm. Zitao immediately whips his head to look over. Popplio had been in the middle of practicing Icy Wind on it. As a steel type pokemon, there's no reason why Metagross should sound that surprised by an ice type move used by a pokemon so much lower leveled than itself, even if Popplio were to land a critical hit.

But what Zitao sees isn't Metagross accidentally stepping on Popplio's tail or Popplio passing out from exhaustion. What he sees instead is Popplio's silhouette glowing brightly, entirely consumed by white light.

"Oh," Zitao whispers. He's aware of Jongdae moving to stand beside him, of a hand landing on his arm in gentle encouragement, but all Zitao can see is Popplio's evolution.

He's never had one of his own pokemon evolve before. It's always been other people's pokemon in his care that he's brought to evolution, but never one of his own. He's never had, _made_ , the time to train with them enough that they've garnered enough experiences to take that step forward. But now, now—

The light fades. Popplio's neck ruffle has migrated to its torso and multiplied into 3 segments, rippling like the skirt of a ball gown. Its new eyelashes flutter as it chirps out a chord, a vast difference from the playful barks Zitao is used to, and as it tilts its head, its new ear stalks flop to the side.

"Oh," Zitao repeats, choked up. "Oh, look at you, _Brionne—_ "

Brionne excitedly chirrups and races over to Zitao, its new, longer flippers helping it move more gracefully than its previous ones, its eyes sparkling as though to say, _Look at me! Look what I did! Are you proud?_ Zitao squats down to catch Brionne in his arms, and as tears well up in his eyes, he chokes out, "I am so, _so_ proud of you. Look at you, oh, _Brionne,_ you did so well."

Brionne noses his wet cheek. Zitao is overwhelmed. They did it. They reached this milestone together, worked hard enough that there's physical evidence of their resilience, their teamwork, their passion. All they had needed was a little push.

Zitao cranes his neck to look up at Jongdae, feeling a little bit like Brionne searching for praise, validation. Jongdae's smile is warm and pleased. His hand squeezes Zitao's shoulder. "Congratulations, Zitao, Brionne. You did a great job. You've worked hard for this."

Zitao sniffles happily into Brionne's neck. He wonders if all trainers feel this happy when their pokemon evolve.

+++

Weight settles on Zitao's sternum, surprisingly heavy for the small space it covers. It's too early. Groggily, he opens his eyes with a quiet noise. His vision is filled with glittering gemstone eyes and a wide, wide smile consisting of the sharpest teeth Zitao has ever seen.

Zitao _screams._

He's vaguely aware of Jongdae jolting awake beside him, but his attention is held completely by the Sableye standing on top of his chest. He keeps screaming. He tries to scuttle backwards, but Sableye's pointed toes curl into his shirt, grinding into the skin beneath it. For how small it is, Sableye is heavy, weighted down by the jewels in its eyes and chest and back, and maybe by some in its stomach, because, as Zitao remembers, they eat gemstones and Carbink.

Oh God. What if it wants to eat _Zitao._ His screams increase in volume and panic, and as he flings out his hands to try to push Sableye away, its head suddenly jerks unnaturally, like a marionette being tugged to the side by unsteady fingers. The red gem on its chest flares with a menacing light. Zitao has seen this move before, has even seen Jongdae's Vespiquen use it recently, and he knows without doubt that he's about to be hit at point-blank range by a Power Gem. He slams his eyes shut and braces himself—

—for an attack that never comes.

Sableye is yanked off of Zitao by a form that bursts out of Sableye's shadow. Zitao can tell immediately that the figure is a pokemon, but it looks like none he's ever seen before, a black humanoid shape with features Zitao can't calm down enough to scrutinize. The mystery pokemon whistles and widens its stance protectively in front of Zitao, leering at Sableye as the latter makes a snickering sound and takes a few slow steps backwards out of the tent. The new pokemon whistles again, louder, and suddenly lunges for Sableye, its fist glowing up in preparation for what Zitao thinks might be a fighting type move.

Sableye cackles once more and flees.

As Zitao pants and stares, he feels a pair of gentle hands on him, one running down his arm and the other pushing his sweat-damp hair off of his forehead. Tension emptying from his body all at once like the collapse of a dam, he whimpers and falls against Jongdae, letting the other wrap him up in a hug. "Are you okay?"

"I'm," Zitao says, and then stops, because he's not really sure. His chest stings where Sableye had scraped into it with its claws, and underneath that, his heart is pounding as fast and as hard as a stampede of angry Tauros. But other than that? Zitao takes a deep breath. "Okay. I'm okay." Then— "What pokemon _is_ that?"

The pokemon in question turns to look at Zitao. It's taller than Sableye, maybe a little taller than Brionne, and is humanoid in shape, with its head the same size of its body. The shape of the top of its head somewhat resembles a samurai's kabuto helmet with three curling horns. Trailing off from its feet are tendrils of shadows. Its large eyes are orange with yellow pupils. Its entire body is gray now, but Zitao remembers part of its body, like its collar and the round armor-like protrusions on its arms, flaring green when it attacked Sableye.

"I don't know," Jongdae admits, sounding startled with his own lack of knowledge. "I've never seen it before. It's . . . not attacking us. And it saved you. So it must be good, right?" Keeping his other arm locked around Zitao, Jongdae leans over to dig through his backpack nearby.

The pokemon whistles and shyly touches Zitao's foot. Something stirs in his memory. "That sound! That's the sound I heard when I was being chased by those Banettes!" The pokemon nods at him and whistles again. "Was that . . . was that you? You saved me from them?" Another nod, and a tiny smile from its tiny mouth. Understanding starts to light up the mysteries surrounding Zitao's adventure. "You teleported me away from them. That's how I ended up so deep into the forest."

With his free hand, Jongdae holds up his pokedex, aiming the viewfinder at the pokemon. A picture of the pokemon pops up on the screen, and over it, the word "MARSHADOW" flashes. Jongdae taps the audio description button. "Marshadow: The only duel ghost and dark type pokemon, it rarely appears before humans, choosing instead to hide in their shadows. It mimics their powers and movements to grow stronger and understand their feelings."

"It makes sense," Jongdae says, pocketing his pokedex. "If Marshadow's the pokemon that has been keeping us trapped in Morass Forest using ghost type moves, we wouldn't be able to find it if it has been hiding in your shadow the whole time. It must really like you." Jongdae pauses, considering Zitao with a thoughtful stare. Like this, with Jongdae still holding him, Zitao can see all of Jongdae's lashes, how dark and thick they are, how they curl at the ends. "Maybe it saw how you saved Emolga from those Banettes and wanted to protect you, and then became attached to you and didn't want you to leave."

Zitao looks at Marshadow, who has taken a few steps forward, placing a fingerless hand on Zitao's knee. Unlike a ghost pokemon, Marshadow's touch is solid, warm. "Is that true, Marshadow?" Zitao asks.

Marshadow blinks slowly, its mouth open in a small "o." It gives a small nod, a barely-there inclination of its head.

"Oh. Um, thank you, then," Zitao stutters. Marshadow's intense stare is unnerving.

"Maybe it wants to come with you," Jongdae suggests, "as a part of your team."

The proposal is shocking enough that Zitao sits up, loosening Jongdae's hold on him. "What? Me?"

"Why do you sound so surprised?" Jongdae's brows are puckered close together, but his smile is small and genuine. "You're probably the best choice for a pokemon that's shy around humans."

" _Me?_ " Zitao repeats, more incredulous than before. He glances at Marshadow, but finds that he can't hold its gaze, inquisitive and vulnerable and trusting. He stares down at his hands instead. "That can't be right. I'm not a trainer. I'm too scared to go on any sort of adventure with my pokemon. I'm too scared to leave the daycare. It's all I know." He grits his teeth. "I'm nothing special. Marshadow would be better of with you, Jongdae. You're a strong trainer. A good one. I'm just . . . a wannabe. A sham."

For a long, tense moment, Jongdae regards Zitao with speculative eyes. Finally, he says, "I've been travelling with you long enough to know that you're wrong."

Zitao huffs out a self-deprecative laugh. "Am I?"

"You are." Jongdae presses forward, his arm falling away from Zitao completely to instead grip his elbow. "You care about your pokemon so much, and you're so gentle with them. It's normal to be scared of change. You don't _have_ to change anything if you're happy with the way things are. But if you're not, then your pokemon are here to support you. Let them support you, they want to. If you're not happy, Zitao, then _do_ something about it."

Marshadow whistles and pats Zitao's leg again. Zitao exhales, his shoulders dropping. He doesn't want to think about his future right now. He's already done more of that in the past few days than he has in the past few months. To Marshadow, Zitao says, "For a ghost pokemon, you're . . . kinda cute, aren't you?"

Marshadow whistles, its eyes closing in pleased assent.

Zitao bites his lip. "Do you . . . want to come with me? And be my pokemon?"

Marshadow croons and pats Zitao's leg again.

"I think that's a yes," Jongdae says. Zitao reaches out and gently strokes the side of Marshadow's face, hands shaking at first but steadying with each pass of his finger over its cheek. It lets out a melodic sound and shuts its eyes, pressing its face farther into Zitao's hand.

Zitao hears a bag being unzipped, and then Jongdae presses a pokeball into Zitao's other hand. Zitao looks up, meeting Jongdae's warm gaze. "I have a few extras," he says. He smiles. "Go for it, Zitao."

Zitao takes a deep breath, nods, and tosses the pokeball.

+++

The next day, Marshadow, left out of its pokeball, strolls in front of them, guiding their way out of the forest. It keeps whistling whenever it finds something of note, pointing out berry patches and other points that Zitao and Jongdae might find interesting, and looks over the moon whenever they thank it or praise it for its help.

It gets along well with the rest of Zitao's team, and it isn't afraid of Jongdae's own pokemon. The comfort, Zitao thinks, comes from observing them for long enough to know how friendly their pokemon are, how soft Zitao is with his pokemon, and how in sync Jongdae is with his own. Marshadow fits in seamlessly, and part of Zitao can't wait to see what sort of accomplishments they can achieve as a team.

That evening, Marshadow leads them into a clearing surrounded on all sides by berries of all shapes and colors. There's so many. "We could probably eat just berries for dinner," Jongdae says.

Zitao raises his eyebrows. "That's too many berries to even harvest, don't you think?"

"What I think," Jongdae says with a smile that charms Zitao all over again, "is that you need to think outside of the box with me." He pulls a pokeball out of its holster on his hip and casts it, and Vespiquen buzzes out. "Vespiquen, use your grubs to collect the berries."

Vespiquen buzzes its flanging affirmative before it raises its arms, summoning its countless green underlings. They disperse into multiple groups that work together to cut off the berries from their stems and carry them back to the center of the clearing. Within minutes, they have a neat pile of berries gathered in front of them, and Jongdae thanks Vespiquen and recalls it to its pokeball.

Maybe, Zitao thinks, bug pokemon aren't all that scary. He looks at Marshadow, who waddles over to the berries and whistles appreciatively, and thinks that maybe no pokemon is inherently scary at all.

Well, maybe Banettes, but Zitao is always going to be a little biased after that particular experience.

The berries really are enough to feed the entire team, and the selection is varied enough that they can afford to let their pokemon pick their preferred flavors. "When we get back," Zitao says, watching Emolga fill its cheeks up to their maximum capacity before finally swallowing everything, "I'm going to give everyone a bath, and then _I'm_ going to take a bath. Maybe three baths. And then I'm going to wine to Kris and Luhan, and I am never going to leave the daycare ever again. I am going to stay and surround myself with normal and fairy type pokemon, and we're going to frolic through the fields and hold hands and sing songs and _that's it."_

Jongdae looks at him curiously, eyes sparkling in the firelight and a small smile on his Purrloin lips. "Do you really mean that?" he asks, but it sounds more like a statement, like he knows the answer to his question. It would be patronizing, if anyone else says it like this, but Jongdae has proven that he really does care about Zitao by now. Zitao just can't figure out why.

_Does_ he really want to stay at the daycare forever? Sure, maybe the idea of it seems like a state of stagnancy for others, but Zitao finds his work fulfilling and safe. There's a routine, and taking care of pokemon, even ones that aren't his own, makes him happy, makes him feel like he has a place in the world. There's certainly no chance of him being trapped in a forest and being chased down by terrifying ghost pokemon.

But there also is no chance for growth, like Brionne's evolution. Like befriending Marshadow. Like meeting Jongdae.

Zitao watches Marshadow flap its arms with exaggerated movements at Swablu, watches Petilil try to mimic the grand gestures by hopping up and down before it plops right over, and he smiles, and wonders if staying at the daycare forever is something his pokemon would be okay with, too.

Jongdae lets him ruminate for a time. Then he goes on to say, "Well, if you ever change your mind, I think you should go on a pokemon adventure. You could even come with me, if you want."

"Go? With you?"

"Yeah." Jongdae's smile is so pretty and bright. "After Rufflet evolves—and that shouldn't be too long from now—my plan is to head over to Alola. I've never been there before. I hear the pokemon there are fierce, so I'd like to catch a few, and maybe train them to be strong enough to fight the island kahunas."

"That's so far away," Zitao whispers. Alola isn't even on the same map as the daycare. He wouldn't know anyone there, wouldn't know the pokemon or the culture or how to get around. "What if I go and I don't even like Alola? Or if I don't even like being on a pokemon adventure?"

And as if it's the easiest thing in the world, Jongdae shrugs and says, "And what if you do?"

"That's oversimplifying it," Zitao protests even as he words echo in his head. What if he does like it? How would he know if he doesn't try?

"And you," Jongdae says, "are making it too complicated." He shrugs again and plops another berry into his mouth—a Mago berry, because Jongdae likes sweet foods but not that sweet, and he likes jucier berries, and Zitao shouldn't waste effort paying attention to things like that, but everything about Jongdae is just so _interesting_ to him.

Going anywhere with Jongdae might be an adventure in itself. Zitao, of all people, knows that, and he lets himself imagine, if only for a second, what it would be like to go on even more adventures with him.

Zitao takes another bite of his Watmel berry and stops worrying about it all as Stufful crawls into his lap, distracting him from the troubling thoughts of his future.

+++

The forest ends the same way it began all those days ago: abruptly, like there's some invisible wall dividing the trees and the fields surrounding the daycare. The light shining unfettered into Zitao's face is both welcomed and disorienting after being separated from it by a thick layer of branches for so long. He blinks the daze away while a grin stretches his mouth.

Zitao bends down to get on Marshadow's eye level. "Thank you, Marshadow," he says. "You did well! You can rest now." Its whistle is filled with happy tremolos that fade as Zitao returns it to its pokeball.

"I'm sort of amazed that Marshadow got attached to you so quickly. I've never seen that sort of speed of imprinting before." A pause. "Well, maybe I do sort of get it. You are pretty cute."

"What?" Zitao stutters, and Jongdae just laughs at him without providing an explanation.

Zitao's ears don't burn for that long. His shy embarrassment is washed away by the joy of being out in the sun again, being on his way back to the daycare, his _home._ He closes his eyes and stretches his arms in front of him, letting out a happy sigh. Jongdae's chuckle makes him want to preen. He also wants to nap for at least a solid three hours. Or maybe lie out in the sun. Or just not do anything in general.

Outside of the daycare building, Luhan is playing with a handful of small canine pokemon. He throws a ball, and a Snubbull, a Rockruff, a Poochyena, and three Lillipups scamper after it, barking and yipping, their tongues flopping out of their mouths. The game of fetch quickly devolves into a playful scrimmage, and Luhan laughs, arms akimbo as he watches on.

Then he sees Zitao. "Zitao! You're safe!" He jogs over to meet them in the middle of the path, face grinning brightly, and the puppies, attracted by the sudden and fast movement, rocket after them. Laughing, Zitao squats down, letting his face be covered in happy puppy kisses. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Jongdae," Zitao says. "And yes, I'm safe, surprisingly."

Luhan squints at Jongdae as he pulls his lips inwards, contemplative. "Do I know you?"

Jongdae shrugs and smiles, but there's something secretive there, even if Zitao can't put his finger on what. "I don't think we've met. I'm Jongdae. Zitao and I worked together to get out of the forest in one piece."

Luhan doesn't look convinced, but he drops it. Instead, he suddenly perks up with an excitement that matches that of the puppy pokemon. "Zitao! I milked Miltank every day you were gone and it only stepped on my toe one time!"

"That's great, Luhan, I'm glad your standards for a successful job done are so high," Zitao says, and if Luhan catches the sarcasm, he chooses to ignore it, preening under the insincere praise.

"Let's go inside," Luhan says. "You look like you both need showers, and Kris would want to know if you're back, Zitao. Jongdae, you look like you might fit into my clothes. They might be a little big on you, but it'd be better than drowning in Zitao's or Kris's."

"You're not that much taller than him," Zitao teases, and Luhan swings his leg around to kick him in the ass. Zitao whines, covers his rear, and scuttles forward to get out of Luhan's reach. Jongdae laughs. Zitao loves the sound.

Inside, Kris leans over his desk, going through paperwork as usual. His Togepi twirls on the corner of his desk, waving its arms up and down as it leisurely spins. It toddles over to the edge, and Kris's hand snaps out to catch it without barely a glance.

"Look who I found!" Luhan chirps.

Kris looks up and smiles. His smile is ugly. Zitao has missed it. "Welcome home. The daycare has really missed you, but we managed somehow."

"Yeah, Kris had to get off his ass and actually help," Luhan snickers.

Kris makes that Iapapa face. "I do help," Kris says. "You're just not as competent as Zitao is, so I have to pick up your slack." His attention is stolen by Jongdae stepping over to Zitao's side, and his eyes go wide. "...Chen?"

Jongdae laughs. "Oops. You got me."

"Chen?" Zitao asks. He has to filter the name through his memory to recall how he knows that name, and he stumbles over his words when he remembers. "You mean like _Sinnoh champion Chen?"_

"That's my alias," Jongdae says as if this isn't something huge that he has kept from Zitao this whole time.

"You said I don't know you," Luhan accuses. "No wonder why you look so familiar!"

"I said we never _met,_ and it's true."

"Oh my god," Zitao says, "you're a champion. You're a champion. I must have looked like an absolute idiot to you."

"We all start somewhere," Jongdae says, and he's serious now. "Zitao, when I said I think you would make a good trainer, I meant it. I still mean it. That's okay if that's not what you want to do, but don't let something like fear keep you from doing that."

Zitao hunches in under the combined gazes of Kris, Luhan, and Jongdae. Togepi coos. Kris clears his throat, and says, "Well, I think Jongdae and Zitao are in need of showers. After we get you into some clean clothes, we'll have dinner, and you two can tell us all about your big adventure."

On their way out of the room, Jongdae's shoulder knocks against Zitao's, deliberate and encouraging. He's waiting for an answer that Zitao doesn't have yet.

+++

"Thank you," Jongdae says, "for the adventure. It was fun. I'm glad I met you."

It's dawn, and the sky is painted in cool pastels. There are Fletchinders starting to roam the skies, hopping from tree to tree and warbling as sleepy Talonflames watch on. With his fingers clenched, Zitao faces Jongdae. And, yeah, he'll admit it, he cries easily, but he refuses to cry now.

"Thank you for rescuing me," Zitao says.

"I think we helped out each other. It's been a while since I've seen a trainer with such a strong bond between him and his pokemon. You could say I'm inspired. When I'm in Alola, I'll try hard to work together with the pokemon I catch there to have that same bond."

Zitao blinks. He hadn't expected that. "I've inspired you?"

"Of course you have," Jongdae laughs. "This past week has been incredibly motivating in general. I wish you'd come with me because I think it'd be good for you, but I also think it'd be good for _me."_ His smile turns a little sad, not in his mouth, but the way that his eyebrows don't rise up like they do when he's genuinely happy. It's amazing, Zitao thinks, that he knows that much about Jongdae already.

He wishes he could learn more. But.

"My place is here," Zitao says. "One day, I'd like to go on an adventure with my pokemon. But for right now, the daycare needs me, and I'm not ready to go."

"As long as you won't regret this, I'll support you," Jongdae says. He shifts his bag to rest more comfortably on his back, and he smiles at Zitao. It's a cue. It's preparing for a goodbye. Zitao reaches out, offering his hand, and Jongdae takes it with a firm grip. "Bye, Zitao. I hope to see you around."

Zitao swallows hard. "Bye, Jongdae. Thank you again, for everything."

And he should watch Jongdae leave, but there's something thick in his throat that makes him turn around and head back inside. _As long as you won't regret this, I'll support you._

He knows. He knows he's going to regret this decision, but he can't force himself to be brave enough to leave. His life is here, so it's here that he'll stay.

He opens the door, and before he can finish closing it, a loud voice startles him, making him jump in shock. _"I'm not ready to go?_ That's all you've got?" Luhan stands with his arms folded and a genuinely nasty look on his face.

"What?" Zitao squeaks.

"Firstly, if you actually wanted to stay, that's a horrible goodbye," Luhan insists, stalking closer. He's holding a bag. "You're half in love with the guy, and you gave him a _handshake?_ You're an idiot."

"Half in love?" Zitao chokes.

"It's true." Kris appears around the corner, and it's clear he just woke up because his voice is rasping and unsteady. Togepi is half-asleep, cradled in one of his arms while his free hand runs through the mess of his hair. "We weren't going to say anything because we wanted you to figure it out on your own, but, Zitao, you should go with him."

"I can't, I—"

"If you're about to say that you need to stay here for any reason," Luhan growls, "then you're a bigger idiot than I thought." He thrusts something at Zitao, and Zitao instinctively clutches onto it. It's his bag.

"I don't understand," Zitao says.

Kris steps forward, and Luhan steps to the side so Kris can reach out and squeeze Zitao's shoulder. "Zitao, you've wanted to go on an adventure for so long. That's one of the reasons I hired Luhan. Between the two of us, we can handle running the daycare, and if you decide to come back, you'll always have a place here."

Zitao doesn't realize he's about to cry until the first tear leaks over. Luhan crowds back in, wipes a tear from his face with a thumb. "You're such a big baby," Luhan says, but it's endearing, affectionate. "This is why it's best if you go with Jongdae. Someone needs to take care of you. Go after him. He can't have gotten far. "

"I'm not ready," Zitao says. He can hardly believe what's coming out of his mouth, the implications. "I haven't packed, I haven't said goodbye, I don't even have clothes or food or maps or even my pokemon—"

"Everything is in there," Kris says, nodding at the bag Zitao grips in his fingers, tight, like it's a lifeline and he's drowning at sea. "You only need your Xtransceiver, your pokemon, and the clothes on your back, but we packed some dried food in there, too, just in case. You won't need it when you get to Alola."

Alola. "I'm going to Alola with Jongdae," Zitao says, dazed.

"Only if you turn around and chase after him," Luhan says. He lightly swats Zitao's butt, making him yip. "Now go!"

"Thank you both," Zitao says, almost tripping over his feet on the way out. He's going to Alola with Jongdae. He's going to be with Jongdae, and his pokemon, and they're going to go on an adventure.

Kris waves, and Togepi copies him, and Luhan just laughs in his face, but Zitao wouldn't want it any other way. He stumbles out the door. Jongdae's not there anymore, but Luhan was right; he can't be far.

So Zitao runs down the path. The sky is lighter now, the sun finally rearing its head over the horizon. Zitao can see Jongdae's silhouette just around the next bend, and he can't contain himself. He shouts Jongdae's name, and by the time Jongdae turns around, curiosity and surprise parting his lips and lifting his eyebrows, Zitao is finishing his last few strides to meet him.

"I'm coming with you," Zitao says, breathless. He think he might be shaking with excitement. "I mean, if you still want me to. I want to come with you. To Alola. If that's, if that's still okay."

Slowly, a smile stretches across Jongdae's face, the real kind, the kind that sends his eyebrows tilting upward. He stretches out his arm, offering his open hand for Zitao to take. "Are you ready for our next adventure?"

Zitao takes Jongdae's hand.


End file.
